


No More

by Aviator_28



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cutting, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviator_28/pseuds/Aviator_28
Summary: Stiles is sexually assaulted at a party he goes to after he is tortured by Gerard. He is done with no one in his 'pack' caring, and goes down a dark road. Sorry for bad summary. No real reference to other things in the season, just placed there. WARNINGS: rape/non-con elements, possible self-harm, drug/alcohol problem.





	1. One Night

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don't know why I am in such a bad mood, but this is what I have created. I have another story sort of similar to this but it has a different approach from a specific pack member to actually help Stiles. Warning: rape/non-con elements.

One night. All it took to change Stiles Stilinski's life forever was a few moments one night. He was just beat up by Gerard. He was hurt, in pain and no one had bothered to even text him and ask how he was doing. Not that he would tell them the truth, but he had been fooling himself for a long time when he thought that he mattered to the pack, the people who were his friends, the closest thing to a family he had. That was what hurt the most, if he was being honest with himself.

So, when he had heard of a party that was going on the next night, he decided to go, get shit-faced, and focus on how he was going to get on without the pack, since he was done with them. However, at one point during the night, he knew he had had way too much, so he went to find a bathroom, ending up in the master bedroom. When he was done puking and could pick himself off of the floor, he noticed that someone was in the room with him. He couldn't stand properly let alone fight off the man, even though he tried. When that failed and he was pushed down onto the bed, hands undoing his jeans, he thought he could scream for help, but he knew that it was useless over the loud beat of the music pumping all over the large house of whoevers party this was. He hadn't realized he had started crying until a clicking noise rang through his ears and large hands were firmly on his hips.

There was no warning, no prep, the man was inside of him in one fell swoop, and all Stiles could do was scream out in agony and snap his hips forward in a useless attempt to stop what was happening in the room that night. His tears mixed with his snot as his body began to protect him the only way it could and allow him to black out. The last thing he heard the man say was a deep "fuck Stiles, you feel so good" into his ear.

It had been a week since that night, and Stiles felt like it had just happened as it basically did every time he closed his eyes. All he could see was the man above him. All he could feel was the weight of the man on top of him, of him inside of him. All he could hear was that door clicking, sealing his fate, and those last words he heard before he blacked out.

He knew he couldn't tell his friends, at least not right away. When he first woke up, all he could think about was finding his friends, forgiving them for not noticing his pain, and he was going to tell Scott when he had called early the next morning. Except all his best friend called to ask him about was when he would have the research for the pack about the next case they had to solve. Stiles couldn't even speak for a moment, grunting out that he would drop it off at Scott's house later that day, then Scott hung up on him.

His whole body was sore, from Gerard's torture, but Stiles knew certain pains were caused by something else. He had spent the whole morning in a scalding shower, trying to rub any part of the man off of him, but he was sure the man was Still all over him in ways he could never erase and so he eventually broke down in the shower, his whole body shuddering with the sobs that wracked his narrow frame.  
When he made it to Scott's house that night, all the werewolf did was take the papers, look Stiles up and down, ask if he was okay and accepted whatever lame excuse Stiles gave him.

A week later, and he hadn't been to school. His dad was furious with him, but didn't really do anything about it and he had got a couple calls and texts from different pack members but no voice mails, no visits and no real questions about how he was doing, just more about if he could do research, or why he was acting this way and ignoring them.

When he finally decided to go to school, the whole pack barely acknowledged his presence, which made him more angry than hurt at this point. What exactly gave them any right to decide that he was unworthy of their time. He had come with their precious research. He was going to give them a chance and tell them in hopes of having some support, but all he got was this? So instead of sulking about and trying to earn back their friendship like the old Stiles would have done, all he did was throw his research on Scott's desk, as he had him for his last period, look him in the eye, and said "No more."

However, when he got back to his jeep, all he did was throw his backpack to the floor and Press the palm of his hands to his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears. He truly had no one, and that just made everything worse, but he decided that outright having no one was better than being surrounded by people who held no true feelings for him like he did for them. He was going to have to face what had happened to him alone as well as dealing with the loss of what he though was his family.


	2. You Don't Get That Chance

It had been another two weeks since Stiles had ended his 'friendships' with the pack, and he hadn't heard a peep from anyone. They stared at him from time to time like they were the ones hurt or angry and he was the one kicking them, but he wasn't taking it, not this time. He deserved more, but on the other end, his battle with everything was slowly ending- and he was losing.

All he did when he got home from school was lie in his bed and have flashbacks. They haunted every second of his day. When someone brushed past him in the hallways- flashback. When someone shouted or cursed- flashback. Whenever doors shut too loudly, locks clicked, or noise got too loud in general, he'd get flashbacks. They were ruling his life, and after that third week alone, he got into his fathers liquor cabinet. There was so much stashed around the house, it was not hard for him to replace what he took, but after a while Stiles didn't care. His father was never home to take notice on how his son was deteriorating, and all he came home with was a new bottle, so Stiles could drink whatever he wanted.

That was the only way he could get a couple hours of sleep- after he got himself drunk enough to just pass out. He went to school simply to not have his dad get calls. He didn't do his work or really pay attention, all he did was stare out of windows and relive that night over and over again. He had even given up lacrosse, even though all he ever wanted to do was play it, but he wanted to play it with his best friend, and he didn't have one anymore so what was the use, right? he told himself.

That was his new pattern. School, home, bottle, cry, pass out and repeat. At least that was until finally six weeks of after his rape and being alone was there a knock at the door, and it was someone he least expected.

"Hey Sourwolf, how can I help you?" Stiles slurred as he leaned onto the front door for support and took a swig out of his whiskey bottle.

"What happened Stiles?" was all Derek replied, eyes cutting into Stiles and making him squirm.

"I don' know what chu mean" he replied weakly, turning back into the house without even bothering to actually confront Derek, but Derek wasn't so easily thwarted, not like the rest of the pack who were acting like children according to Derek.

"You know what I mean. This isn't you. You pushed your pack away to get drunk and what, cry yourself to sleep? Why? What. Happened?" he asked again sternly, eyes boring into Stiles.

Something stirred in Stiles, Derek could see it in his eyes, but it faded quickly.

"Nuthin' that's any bodies business. Now you can show yourself out," he whispered, gaze shifting to the floor as he took another swig of his drink, but a strong hand grabbed his wrist with almost no effort, but still Stiles winced.

"STOP THAT!" Derek roared, seeing something stir in Stiles' eyes again. "You can't waste away and hope that'll fix all your problems. You have to let someone in sometime, Stiles. Let me in, let me help you Stiles!" Derek pleaded, truth shining in his eyes as he took in the sorry sight before him.

Stiles almost broke down right then and there, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly as his brain tried to make the words, but all he could think about was all the times Derek had pushed him around, called him useless and weak. He would not let Derek see any more weakness from here.

"Leave, Derek, and don't come back. Tell everyone, even though I'm sure it won't be too hard on their part, to leave me the hell alone. You don't get the chance now to be the friend you were supposed to be when I needed you, all of you and no one was to be found" he finished, his throat constricting toward the end with unshed tears.

Derek walked out the door, but when he got to the end of the porch, turned to look at Stiles with glossy eyes, "Why Stiles?" was all he asked.

"Because the truth hurts, Derek. And I've had enough for a life time And I'm done being the person there to make sure no one feels like I have felt, like I feel, and falling down to no one to catch me over and over again. This pack has used me and over looked me, and i saw past that, hope for better every time because I cared for everyone in this pack, regardless of how much I was overlooked, but no more Derek, I've had too much" he said, taking another long swig and gently closing the door, sliding down it when it closed like the tears that began to stream down his face and more sobs tore through his failing body.

He eventually finished this bottle and went upstairs to pass out on his bed, but something caught his eye before he made it to the bed. It was an old razor blade he used for his projects when he used to help solve the monster problems with his pack. He picked it up, liking the feel of it in his hands and before he even registered what he was doing, there were two shallow, short and clean marks on his fore arm going from his wrist laterally a couple inches. The feeling, after the cuts were made was a stinging as his skin protested the unnatural marks. However, all Stiles could think was that this pain, this pain he could control. This pain took his mind off of other pain, and to him, was something good and miraculous.

This was when the bigger problems began.


	3. What Do You Know?

It had been 2 months. Stiles started the day like every day since he was visited by Derek. He scrubbed himself raw in a scolding shower and made a few, albeit deeper than the first few, cuts along his arms- although you could hardly call his diced up limbs arms any more, they were more scar than arm. The same could be said about his upper thighs, but he usually cut there at night, before he went to bed.

He had not had any contact with his old friends except glares while he was walking through the halls, in class, in the parking lot, or generally anywhere where they were in the same vicinity. However, he gave each of them no mind, or anything any mind lately. He had been suspended for excessive tardiness/unexcused absences -and how ironic is that anyways?- and so he just padded around his house the last couple of days, happily getting drunk or using what his new 'friend' called smiles. It was like a mix between LSD and Ecstacy, and if he was lucky, would make him see animals pop out of the walls, and if he having a bad day he would relive all his nightmares, from reality and otherwise.

He hadn't had a real conversation with his dad in about 3 weeks, after their blowout about Stiles' behavior, where his dad got frustrated, mad, and then drunk and gave up, stating so as he grabbed his, magically new, bottle of whisky. However, it only meant Stiles could do as he pleased without having to talk to his father, so he was cool about everything.

Today, however, he had to go to school or else he could get expelled, and although he didn't really care, he thought that whole process was unnecessary. So, he hurried outside and jumped into the waiting car of Jason, his new 'friend' who he met at a club and was his dealer/fuck buddy because these were ways Stiles thought he could take control. Who he let near his body and what he let in his body. At first he was scared about their relationship, but he soon realized he was surprisingly detached and numb for most of their sexperiences, and Jason seemed to respect Stiles' 'no' days and let him top. So, he was the only person Stiles spent time with, besides himself and his razor.

They walked in to school and were immediately greeted with warm, or scorching, stares from Scott and the rest of them, but Stiles just gripped Jason tighter around the waist and turned the corner to his new locker.

'What's their problem again man? Why can't you just tell me?" Jason asked him as they reached the locker and Stiles immediately took some pink pill.

"They're just butt hurt that I stopped doing all the work for their little projects is the closest approximation I can give you, babe. Just forget about it and let's go" was Stiles' reply. Nobody in the school could understand the sudden split between the group and Stiles, but shrugged it off easy enough.

"Alright man, where do you want to go today?" Jason asked.

"I got to go to first and third, but after that let's go to club and see what you got?" Stiles suggested.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll text you then," and with that and a chaste kiss to the lips, Jason was off leaving Stiles standing awkwardly in the hallway to go to his first class.

He walked in and immediately ran into the wall, or what felt like a wall in his weakened state, as he looked up to see a familiar face. As he was about to apologize, but saw who it was, all he managed was a "Watch it asshole" as he shoved his way through to his new seat in the back.

However, before he made it far, we was grab by the wrist and spun around. He tried his hardest not to wince as this was where he had his fresh cuts, but failed miserably while hiss only saving grace was his fast composure.

"What's your problem, man?!" was what he heard, and finger to his shoulder was what he felt.

Not going to reply. Not going to reply. No. Reply was all Stiles thought as he gave his best scowl and moved to turn back towards his seat, but was met with icicles and familiar Strawberry Blonde hair.

"When are you going to stop acting so childish, Stiles" was what he heard in Lydia's high-pitched voice and she shoved past him, making him fall into the side of a table and jab his side.

Not worth it. None of them. Keep going. Walk away Was his mantra after this little episode. He was being so good. It wasn't until he heard the snicker of "He's not worth it, Lydia" that he turned around in a flurry of thing limbs and too-loose clothes that he knew he wasn't going to be able to make it through this class or third.

"No!" was all he shouted, getting looks from everybody including the two he wanted. "No, Scott. You are not worth it. You are not worth anything and I'm glad I finally got it into my head how useless and self-centered you really are now. You! Scott are not worth it, so shut up and stay the hell away from me!" He really yelled at the end.

Scott's eyes were wide and surprised for a second, before they shrank into a deadly glare that before all this would have told Stiles that he had gotten under Scott's skin in a not-so-good way.

Stiles saw a brief flicker of yellow and was startled, but knew that nothing could happen here in front of the whole class.

"What do you know of it Stiles? You just abandoned your friends and act like you are some holy thing to be cherished and praised. You aren't worth anything Stiles, and the sooner you realize that the better for everyone! You can't keep acting like this and expect us to just forgive you, Sti-" was how Scott finished as he was met with a furious fist from a practically steaming Stile.

"What do I know, Scotty?! I know?! What the hell do You KNOW!?. NOTHING! That's what you know. I'm not the one who has apologizing to do. I'm not the one who, once they found something better to do just forgot about the one person who has always been there for them, no matter what! That would be you, Scotty. So you have some fucking -punch- learning -punch- to -punch- do!" Stiles was practically snarling at the end as he stood over Scott while he punched them.

He looked up when he was done to a room full of people who looked a mix of shocked, disgusted, angry and scared. He froze, not knowing what to do and just bolted out of the room, running down the long corridors and bursting through the front doors and away from the school until he had to stop for air.

Stiles fumbled with his phone, pulling up a message thread and texting a simple Meet me, now. and then a please. to follow. He tapped the phone against his palm anxiously as he waited for a reply.

"Where" was the reply. He looked around to see where he ended up, texting the address to the person. He walked to the curb and took a seat, waiting patiently for his ride. He wasn't sure this what the right thing to do and he was scared shitless, but when he pulled out his phone, it was almost instinct to call on this person.

When he heard the Camaro winding down the street, his heart started like a jackhammer and he started to look for an escape, but the next moment he was looking straight into the hazel/green but sometimes blue eyes of Derek Hale.


	4. The Truth

They had sat in the Camaro for 10 minutes, both refusing to say anything first, but both knowing that it had to be Stiles who started the conversation. Stiles couldn’t figure out why he even contacted Derek, let alone what he should say right now. The more he tried to think of how to come clean to Derek, the more he worried about what he would think and what he would tell everyone.   
Oh God! Stiles thought. They can’t know. They’ll all pity me, or look at me disgusted. Part of Stiles worried.   
Another part of him didn’t want them to know purely to be selfish and petty. They don’t deserve to know it thought. Why? So they can through it in his face. So everyone can use it to get back in his life only to halfheartedly apologize, or not apologize at all and start using him for their own ends again?!  
He couldn’t mend the two thoughts and his heart beat showed this. It was beating so fast that Derek was growing seriously concerned. Stiles could read it clear as day on his face, one because he had gotten closer to him recently and two because he it become a new facial feature in the directory of facial cues from the Sour Wolf since he had stated to open up to Stiles.   
It had been so long though that he had last talked to Derek, like actually talked. He had become so emotionally stunted himself recently, and he hadn’t talked about what had happened to him to anyone, not even himself, how was Stiles supposed to open up to someone he knew couldn’t really help him anyway.   
His heart was beating rapidly, and Stiles knew what was coming, as panic attacks were nothing new to him, but he had tried to expose them to Derek as much as possible. His mind had started to wander off, and never registered that Derek was calling his name, trying to get his attention. When Derek had touched him his mind immediately took him somewhere he did not want to go.   
Stiles was back in that room, and it definitely was not Derek touching him and he once again reliving his worst moment to date. He faintly heard Derek start to scream as his own panic over came him, and then all he felt was water cascading down his head, onto his face and then into his nose and mouth as his rapid breaths caused him to inhale. This shocked him enough to bring him back to the car, where he realized he was in the fetal position on the floor underneath the dash board on the passengers’ side. There were tears running down his face, as he knew what those felt like on his face, but he hoped that the water helped mask how many there were.   
Derek’s back was straight against the drivers’ side door, eyes wide and hands held flat against his chest, palms toward Stiles. The universal symbol of ‘I come in peace.’ He was very still and just looking at Stiles.   
Stiles took a moment to compose himself, burying his face in his sweater, simultaneously wiping at the tears and water, trying his hardest to slow his breathing and wild heart. His face was still buried in his sweater when he whispered a soft ‘thank you’ to Derek, barely hearing it himself but knowing the wolf could hear it clear as day.

. They had gotten closer, which has only increased his worry for someone he now considered a friend. He, with the Help of Stiles before, had been trying to work on his problems. Seeing Stiles like this made his heart feel like an ice hand was squeezing it, and like there was a ton of rocks sitting heavy in his gut.   
His breathing picked up a little as his eyebrows knitted together. His eyes started to dart over the thin frame of Stiles, trying to address what was causing him to panic so much. The car reeked of fear and anxiety and anger, with a small amount of shame, which had him worrying more.   
And when had he started to waste away so completely Derek thought as he was trying to decide how to get Stiles to calm down.  
“Stiles,” Derek began, “Stiles!” He tried again a little louder, not sure how much force he should use with him in this state, but nothing was getting through to the boy. Derek reached his hand out and squeezed Stiles’ shoulder in his unresponsive state.   
He made sure not to give it his old intimidating squeeze but to make it as reassuring and supportive as he could in his stinted emotional state. However, he was unprepared for the reaction that Stiles had. Stiles had quite literally jumped back against the passengers’ side door, eyes wild and heart beating incredibly fast, much faster than the rate that already had Derek worried. His eyes then shut and he started muttering things. “nonononono”, “stop, please. Please, stop”, “You can’t” and small whimpers. He was holding his head like he had just got decked and shrunk down into the small space where his long legs usually barely fit, rocking himself back and forth and muttering nonsense that weighed down on his heavy gut.   
Derek didn’t know what to do, so he kept trying to keep his space and rouse Stiles via his name. When that was not working, he decided to grab the nearest cup, luckily filled with only water, and just dumped it over the shaking frame of Stiles, making sure to put the distance between the two of them afterward. He kept as still as he could, giving Stiles the time to come back to him. His heart had skipped a beat as he tried to register what happened, and then went back to a still fast rhythm, but much more Stiles paced.   
He watched him bury his tear stained face, shame and fear filling the car now.   
When Stiles was sure he wouldn’t go into another episode he took his face out and looked at Derek for a second. He looked scared and sort of vulnerable, not very common for the Alpha.   
“Sorry” Stiles was continuing to whisper, looking from Derek to his fumbling hands.   
Derek took a second to respond, giving Stiles a few up and down looks, as if he was still unsure of his state. “You don’t have to apologize, Stiles. I get it, you-“  
“No you don’t Derek!” Stiles shouted, causing both of them to flinch backwards. “You’ll never get it. I’m sorry I bothered you, but I have to go now. Thanks for coming.” And with that Stiles attempted to get up from the small cavern, sure he looked like a freshly born baby giraffe, but needing to get out of there.   
Stiles pushed the side door open, with a little too much force as it ricochet back into him, but he kept on moving, stomping away down the street towards his home and stashes. Derek easily caught up and kept pace with the teenager.   
“Leave me alone Derek!” he screamed, but was too tired at this point to hold any real heat in his words  
“Stiles, you can’t leave. We haven’t even talked yet!” Derek knew he couldn’t let him leave in this state. He didn’t know what was going on, but he just knew he had to find some way to help his friend.   
“I don’t want to talk Derek, calling you in the first place was a mistake. Get back into your car and drive back to your pack, and just leave me alone!”  
It hurt Derek, but he was going to keep at it. He had a bad feeling if he left Stiles at this point, so he just kept quiet and kept pace. Stile kept upping his speed, knowing full well it was pointless, but what else was he going to do?  
“DEREK!” Stiles was angry now. He just wanted to get drunk and give himself a little relief. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone. But he also knew that if he didn’t let someone in soon that he might never be able to. They both just stood facing each other in the middle of the residential street, the outside world seeming to have given them a few moments of peace for once.   
“Fine, lets walk” he said, deflating. And with that they walked towards the preserve and an off the path trail hardly anyone used anymore after flooding had washed the path away.   
They walked for about 20 minutes, coming to clearing at the edge of a creek that flowed through the preserve. Stiles took a stump, and Derek just stood, giving the boy his space and time.   
Stiles bowed his head, his breathing picking up. Derek could smell the salt from the tears, and could hear his apprehensive heart beat. He wasn’t going to rush him and needed to know. The three words that shakily came out of the boys’ mouth made his heart and breathing still, his mind going completely blank.   
“I was raped” Stiles has gasped, his breathing becoming erratic as he forced the truth out of his mouth.


End file.
